


A good hair day

by Flexor



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fluff, Frizz - Freeform, Hair, Tangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:39:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4882453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flexor/pseuds/Flexor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yang saves the life of an unfortunate driver set upon by Grimm, and he rewards her as only he can. No, it's not what you think, everybody keeps their clothes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A good hair day

**Author's Note:**

> The daughter of a friend of mine got me onto RWBY. Yang is my favorite. So I like busty blondes, sue me.

Yang Xiao-Long gunned the engine of her motorcycle and watched the headlights disappear into the trees as she took a sharp turn. A big wild grin was on her face. Yang was the happiest girl in the world, for three reasons. First of course, she had a naturally sunny disposition, and had enough smiles in her for the whole kingdom. Second, she was on the road, and riding _fast_ , on the razor thin edge between sanity, death, and boredom. Third and finally, she _had_ them. The tickets. Two beautiful gold-edged tickets to the biggest concert ever. The Achieve Men were coming to Vale, finally! The tickets were in her bra and it would take the might of the whole of Remnant to get them out again. Who to take? Not Ruby of course. Yang had Plans for that concert. The kind of Plans that you really didn't want your little sister to witness. Weiss? Good heavens no. Unless still waters ran deeper than she thought, Weiss didn't even know what boys were _for_. There was in Weiss' wake a large collection of perfectly frozen statues of boys, caught at exactly the moment between hope and despair. Which left Blake. To be honest, it was going to be Blake all along, but being a fair-play kind of girl, Yang had to at least think about taking the others. Blake Belladonna, the cat Faunus. Even in her thoughts, Yang whispered that fact. Blake, hiding her cat ears under a black bow, fooling as many as not into thinking she was human. She was the obvious choice for an operation like this. Ruby was the cutest kid in the world. Weiss was possibly the most beautiful of the four, the Snow Angel, aloof, alone. Still, what Yang needed was _hot_ , and apart from herself, because modesty is dishonesty, Blake's animal magnetism made her the hottest girl in team RWBY. Together, they could pick and choose from the best of the best, perhaps even the Achieve Men themselves. The only problem that remained was to get Blake's nose out of her books and wake up the Beast in the Shadows. Yang still had her laser pointer. 

 

Yang's musings were interrupted by a large dark object in the middle of the road. Baring her teeth, she swerved to one side, hit the brakes and slid to a halt. Yang took a long slow breath. What kind of _idiot_ parks their car right in the middle of a dark road? A closer look showed that the driver hadn't had much of a choice in the matter. The dark form of an Ursa was in front of the car, and neither car nor Ursa had fared well. Yang looked inside the car. The windscreen had cracked, the airbag had blown up, and the door was open, indicating that whoever had been driving this, had got out. But where was the driver? Walking along the road back to Beacon? Eaten by Roadkill's brothers?

Yang closed her eyes and listened carefully. Off to the right, at the edge of hearing, she imagined growls and human screams. Concentrating, she heard it again. Someone was fighting for their life. Without hesitating, Yang sprang into a sprint towards the noise. A minute later, she found the source of the noise. A man was up a tree. At the foot of the tree were three Grimm, leaping up, trying to pull him down. The man was desperately kicking away the Grimm. In one fluid motion, Yang extended her gauntlets, the Ember Celica. Her first fire punch sent one of the Grimm flying into the trees, never to return. Yang was in no mood to play and shot the other two with blasts of red Dust. She dropped into a crouch and looked round for more Grimm, but that appeared to be it for the night.

As she looked up, she saw the man lose his grip, fall down, and land on his back. She rushed towards him and bent over him to look at his face.

"Hey Mister? Are you okay?"

Mister groaned, then opened his eyes. A slow smile appeared on his face.

"Oh... my..."

Yang rolled her eyes, stood up, and crossed her arms. A pose that did nothing to draw attention away from her rather eye-catching personal attributes.

"When you've finished staring at my rack, can you walk?"

"Huh?" The man slowly got to his feet. "Oh. I see... I wasn't... well, not..."

Yang smiled sweetly. "I know. You only want me for my brains, don't you?"

"You have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen on a woman."

"Um..." said Yang, a bit taken aback. Finding a man whose first looks _weren't_ aimed at her tits was a bit unusual. Yang gave a little laugh. She turned round. "Coming?"

Together they walked back to the road.

"I'm Yang," she said, holding out her hand.

"Marcel Champagne," said the man, taking it. "You have saved my life. Thank you."

"All in a day's work for a Huntress," said Yang. "You're going to need a ride home. Your car is a write-off."

"I'm afraid so, miss Yang. Are you here by car?"

"Not exactly." 

 

Yang took it fairly easy on the way to the city of Vale. She found that passengers clinging to her in mortal fear cut her circulation something rotten. Marcel Champagne led her to a shop in one of the better parts of town. She looked up at the red-and-white spiral on the front.

"Oh, you're a hairdresser!" That explained why he'd been looking at her hair more than anything else.

Marcel Champagne laughed and pointed his hand inside. "No Miss Yang, I am _not_ a hairdresser. I am a Grand Master _Coiffeur_. I have served the aristocracy of this fine kingdom. I did Her Majesty's hair on the day of the Coronation. My clientele includes pretty much any nobleman or woman you can name and many you can't."

"Wow," said Yang, moderately impressed.

Marcel Champagne turned on the lights and turned one of the chairs towards Yang.

"Sit down, Miss Yang. And I will make it so that even in the company of royalty, your hair will not look out of place."

"Uhh..."

Marcel patted the seat. "Please. It's the least I can do."

Yang looked at the chair, up at Marcel, then laughed and sat down. Marcel wheeled up a large basin, turned on the tap and ran warm water over Yang's hair.

"I must confess that this is a reward for myself as much as for you. Your hair is magnificent." He held up two bottles. "Roses or mint?"

"Mint," said Yang. There were enough roses in the family already. Her eyes closed as Marcel poured the fresh-smelling lotion into her hair and started washing it, then brushing out the tangles till it was smooth and shiny.

"This reminds me of a fairy tale, or a legend."

Yang didn't open her eyes. "Anything to do with bears?"

"No, it's about a king who used to oppress his subjects, taxing them to within an inch of their lives, much to the sadness of his queen. No matter how she implored him, he would not be moved. Finally, the King said he would ease the taxes only if his lady would ride through town on a horse naked."

"Oh. Did she?"

"She did. Clothed only in her long hair. She had enough hair to cover herself with."

Yang chuckled. "If you think I'm going to ride Bumblebee clothed only in my hair, you've got another thing coming."

"Well, all the townsfolk except one turned away their eyes."

"Would you?"

"Of course not. I'd be watching her hair."

"Heh. Nice to see a guy who can _not_ look at a girl's tits if he wants to."

"I can control myself in that respect," said Marcel, with a little private smile.

Yang almost fell asleep under the gentle expert touch of Marcel's fingers. After a while, he stopped. Yang looked up and saw Marcel step up holding a comb and a pair of scissors. Her fists leapt out from under the cover.

"Whoa whoa _whoa_ there, buddy! Where do you think you are taking those scissors? I _like_ my hair long. I've killed for less than that!"

Marcel gave her a stern look. "Miss Yang. You seem to be under the impression that I am holding a pair of hedge clippers. Are you forgetting who you're talking to? If at the end of this job, your hair would look anything less than perfect, I would have to bury you under my shop, and myself along with you, out of embarrassment. I know what I am doing."

Marcel grabbed a tuft of Yang's hair and waved in front of her nose. Yang looked at it cross-eyed.

"This is a split end. Split ends lead to... frizz. You don't want frizz, do you?"

He put two fingers on Yang's forehead and pushed her back into the chair. He started snipping.

"So. Are you going anywhere nice on holiday?" 

 

For about an hour and a half, Marcel Champagne snipped, brushed, combed, shaved, blow-dried, and plaited Yang's hair.

"This'll keep your hair out of your face when you're fighting. Though how anyone could want to hit you looking like this is a mystery to me."

"Grimm have no taste," said Yang, all rosy and mellow.

"True. Well, much as I'd like to, I don't think there is anything left I can do with your hair." Marcel pulled away the cover with a practiced swing that wouldn't get any clippings on Yang's clothes. He held up a mirror. "What do you think?"

Yang stood up, turned round, whistled.

"I don't think my hair has ever looked like this!"

"I should hope not," said Marcel, drily. "If it had, I'd have to fight your _coiffeur_ to the death."

Yang turned round, laughing. "Thank you Mr. Champagne."

"No Miss Yang, thank _you_. If ever you need a touch-up or something for a special occasion, come and see me and you'll have it."

"Hmm..." Yang looked at Mr. Champagne. "Can I bring a friend? I'm taking her to a concert."

Marcel Champagne raised an eyebrow.

"She's got really nice black hair."

Marcel laughed. "Of course. I'll be happy to." 

 

"And what sort of time do you think _this_ is, young lady?" Ruby looked over the edge of her bed, tilted her head. "Hang on. Something's different about you. Can't put my finger on it."

"Damn right you can't. If you ruffle it I literally may have to kill you."

Ruby rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "You've been away all that time for a _haircut_?"

"In a way. I saved the life of the best hairdresser in the land. He is now my hair slave forever." Yang leapt into bed and lay down carefully.

"That's wasted on you! Weiss would _kill_ for that and you _like_ looking like you've been pulled through a hedge backwards!"

A pillow flew through the air and hit Ruby in the face. She laughed.

"You look great though Sis. Shame it won't last."

"I do, don't I? Oh well. Night Sis."

"Night."


End file.
